


Paris 2018: La grande inundation

by iceysparkling



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceysparkling/pseuds/iceysparkling
Summary: The title is from a documentary named Paris 2010: La grande inundation, about a regulation founded in 17 century which is that a grand flood is bound to happen in Paris every one hundred years.And a few days ago it happened… alas. Parisians took photos and tweeted about crossing border by boat.I’ve only been Paris for couples of days as a visitor, so the description of the city is not referential.Established relationship for Enjolras/Grantaire. Not any plot but fluffiness. Character’s name “Maximilien” is my personal preference.I literally can write anything in my works. Write a new short one without finishing last work.





	Paris 2018: La grande inundation

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [ER-巴黎2018大水](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/447575) by Alien. 



> This work is translated from a Chinese ER fiction.  
> The translation credits to Hayley, whose IG is @haaayley___ and Weibo is @why歪歪_NON-STOP  
> I only did the profreading.

Someone was knocking Enjolras’ window.

The single layer of the apartment’s glass made the sound so loud that it could clearly rush in his ears through the warm quilt. With a grumble, Enjolras had to struggle out from the soft cage of bedding and mattress, crawling to the window and drawing back the curtain with merely-opened eyes –

The leaden sky and gloomy lights came to his sight first. The damn winter morning in Paris.

Second was a fist banging on the window glass.

He was completely awake and went out from the bed to open the window, stretching his head and looking down.

Grantaire was waving his hand to Enjolras, leaving his scarf waving in the biting wind.

“Morning! Apollo!” the strong wind made his voice swinging like his scarf, “didn’t get up early for the revolution this morning?”

With a tremble Enjolras was aware of that what he saw was not a dream: Grantaire was standing in a boat, surrounded by water.

“where are the streets?”– His first question after looking around through window.

“Under the water.” Grantaire stamped his foot in the boat which made it rocked dangerously, “the century curse happened. The Seine is furious again.”

“… so fast to reach here?” Highlighted that he lived on second floor.

“Un huh. She maybe helps Parisians under His will – now the strike is absolutely won. The whole city is shut.”His face expressed delight.

Enjolras looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “a professor shouldn’t have such attitude to the natural disaster.”

“I share my joy with my students -- who are probably busy with photographing and tweeting.” Grantaire put up his scarf a little. “Get your coat and I’ll show you the sea! …sure, if you want to stay at home waiting for the icy water creeping up the bed, please share half of your quilt with me. Ha, terrific.”

Enjolras chuckled, getting a hoodie on himself. “The sea? …Seems Paris’ flood accords with your definition of ‘romantic’.”

“Strictly speaking, if losing the key element, this is nothing but a more absurd side of the cruel reality. Therefore, I must thank you, for brightening this wet and cold city.” Grantaire’s voice flew up. “Put on more clothes. The wind’s blowing hard.”

Soon an armed-to-the-teeth Enjolras jumped from the window, not forgetting turning off all the utilities(fortunately he’s on the second floor) and leaving a slight opening in window panel. “By the time Ferre and Courfe come back, the water probably will have receded.”He sat cross-legged in the boat, sending a message to two roommates of him.

“Not likely. From my perspective, they have to go through the window too. The report of France Bleu 107.1 is not optimistic.” Grantaire whistled and poled away from the boat.

“No, they went back to the hometown, companied with Jehan. It takes at least one week to come back.”

“So why not we come back? …No no no I’m not saying back home, I mean back to South France…”

“You don’t need to be so cautious.” Enjolras put his phone into the pocket with a nice smile. “There is no problem that we come to my home together. I don’t mind. Even though there will be conflicts and quarrels.”

“Ah, but will your ability to persuade be confined? Especially when confronted with a gentleman of the old school in front of the family dinner table, and without the lucid philosophical polemicist and the cosmopolitan…”

“It’s not the same. When confronted with the crucial moment of life, it’s enough that we are both here.”

There were a few seconds of silence.

“In that case now we can go to South France by boating. We retreat by ourselves without governmental arrangement!”

“But before that, we need to buy some lifejackets.”

“Yeah, and save several floating citizens.”

“Besides you who else visit Paris by boating? –Apart from me.”

“Argh, it is not a small group who have such taste. You see – like that flock of gentlemen.” Grantaire pointed at the fluttering line of “white sails” on the water.

“Swans?” Enjolras lowered himself on the side of the boat, reaching his hand to those big birds which were floating slowly from the distant dark water surface.

“Those arrogant gents are able to peck your hand.” Grantaire stopped paddling temporarily. The boat floating at that place.

“Do we have any bread or cookies…?” Enjolras did not withdraw his hand, for this reason, extreme enthusiasm in his voice.

Grantaire curled his lips and took out a piece of French toast from his clothes. “Coincidentally I have. But this is not for feeding swans –I’m not sure whether it is safe for birds to eat caramel butter sauce .”

Enjolras laughed, taking over the hot toast. He waved his hand to these white birds that passed their boats and went away. “I’m terribly sorry. I change my mind now. I’ll keep it for myself.”

“You don’t need to apologize to those freeloaders who are exploitive by nature. Look how proud they lift their chests!” Against the gunwale, Grantaire actually looked right in front of him and smiled. Enjolras was lowering his head to open the preservative film, a plume of steam flying out and vanishing in the grey air.

“The seine, Eiffel Tower, swans and picnic in a boat. This is nothing but an absurd novel.” He gave a short laugh, “at this moment it’s supposed to use a selfie stick for a selfie and post with ‘French Santiagos’.”

“Shouldn’t make fun of _The Old Man and the Sea_. At least I’m eating toast, not raw fish.” Enjolras licked his fingertips with great satisfaction. “However you have that spirit, upholding the food even in the wilderness of water. Thank you.”

“No problem. Not a big deal… it’s life.” Grantaire turned his head to the distant gloomy sky. The spire soaring to the clouds was like a fork pocking a poached egg. A golden stream leaked from clouds flew down the metal framework.

Enjolras raised his head and looked at the sunlight too. “Where will we go later on?”

“Regard yourself as Robinson. Let it be. Even for me, I can’t tell the addresses of the Corinth, Musain, McDonald's and boneless roast chicken shop. –Now it’s no problem to change all the signs in Paris into ‘the Seine’.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “But I can bet Montmartre doesn’t belong to the Seine.”

“Hey, that’s true. Why not we go boating there? To see what vicissitudes happened in where I used to work at.”

“Let’s go.” Enjolras swallowed the last bite of toast and licked his lips. “I’ll paddle it together with you.”

They shuttled in the grey wind and water. The sunlight occasionally in and out of clouds always made the curly hair in front of Enjolras’ forehead sparkle. He was not so good at boating, after all, Paris only required her citizens to use such ability every one hundred years. However, Grantaire excelled at it like other odd kinds of stuff that he knew well. “probably because I know a bit of cudgel play? It can work in a similar way to rowing – Wait Enj, you should slow down. We’re spinning in circles.”

Even having lost the first battle, Enjolras insisted on mastering this skill. Therefore, the boat went like a whirlwind (or a peg-top) all the way, but they were so delighted. Especially when meeting flocks of ducks or other waterfowls, Enjolras would sincerely wave his hand to them with a smile, which broadened Grantaire’s outlook (“I thought you would only want to protect their rights…” “There’s a river beside my old home. When I was a kid I used to sit on the bridge to watch ducks marching as a team.”). They even witnessed a gang of mice cleaving through the water – Grantaire cheered rapturously for their standard swimming styles, while Enjolras stared still and held in thought. Grantaire could bet that rat infestation in Paris would be the next activity content for ABC’s.

He planned to say something that could lighten the atmosphere. “This is not unexpected at all, given the fact that underworld of Paris is extraordinarily spectacular– though still there’s a possibility that this bandits gang came from Galeries Lafayette.”…eh, it seems not working.

But at this point here comes a voice singing through the wind, cutting off more thoughts about rats. With eyes wide open, Enjolras said surprisingly: “it’s The Marseillaise!”

Grantaire looked around, noticing a bunch of college students standing by windows and singing loud in unison. “Hey, Sorbonne, the most solid barricade! Whether psychological or physical destruction Paris undertakes, it definitely stands till the end… Certainly, I believe The Café Musain with the leader has the same power.”He beat time with his fingers on the peddle. “Say, perhaps there is a Feuilly sneaking into that choir.”

“Probably.”Enjolras waved his hand to them. “There may be people singing in Paris 1. We can go there tomorrow.”

“Ha, I‘d rather suggest organizing one at the Moulin Rouge. …Don’t, don’t look at me in that way. I simply think it’s a good location to gain attention.”

Enjolras did not poke him into the water with the paddle, so Grantaire sang out loud – but the content is “I love girls. I love the good wine too” with the tune of _Vive Henri Ⅳ_.

“Ah, you didn’t change a little.”

“Just like the deluged Paris of the early 19 century is no different from the Paris of today? But at least I didn’t go worse, not like she inexplicably grew an iron tower.”

“That’s a tribute to the 100th anniversary of French Revolution.”

“Indeed. That’s the blind spot… Alas, let’s not talk about this iron lady. I know if this was 1887 you would stand with Maupassant.”

“That’s true.” Enjolras turned his eyesight from the splashing water to Grantaire’s eyes. “By the way, Maximilien, can you sing Italian songs?”

Grantaire raised his eyebrow.

And he began to sing _O Sole Mio_ , his voice echoing in the streets.

“Didn’t expect to experience boating in Venice… The flood has some advantages after all.”

“It’s my pleasure to make you thinking Venice.” Grantaire stopped between two melodies. “But speaking in advance, I don’t plan to sing the highest note. What if a bucket of water thrown out from high floors because of my cracking voice and broken notes?”

Enjolras squinted at him: “So can you hit it?”

“…I’m not sure.”He was like counting how many windows on two sides of walls. “If someone splashes water you must call the police for me.”

Enjolras did nothing but looked at him with encouragement.

Grantaire took a deep breath. Alright.

With singing they went through various streets (now should be called water lanes). Passing across, Enjolras put back the paddles. “Wait. Red traffic light.”

“Just in time I have to rest a little bit. I’m not cut out for musicals.”

“Hey, I think it can be marked as a success. And no splashing water.”

Surprisingly across the road (which was unseen in fact) there was a boat waiting for the traffic light too. When passing each other two boats greeted.

“There will be no traffic lights in Montmartre.” Grantaire joked.

Indeed. With less and less half signs and lampposts popping through water, the steps and the square built on the slope could be seen already.

“let’s come alongside here.”

“Okay, but when you get off be careful and don’t step in…”

“Wow! …Too late.”

“Alright. I knew this would happen… Ah, the meadow here is just like a water absorption sponge!”

“Now it happened to you.”

An Enjolras with a mischievous smile.

“what a once-a-century experience.” Grantaire spoke with utter sincerity.

“An experience of stepping into the water?”

“Yeah. Not only that.”

“You can see half of the squirrels in the city having a meeting on the place Pigalle.”

“They are really good at picking the place.”

“Which inspires me. Tomorrow let’s help transfer the citizens by boating. The police must be shorthanded. Moving here is good enough.”

“Ha, even which means you have to confront with national law enforcement officials and squirrels.”

“Do you agree?”

“Oh absolutely. On your command. At your service. I’m okay with contributing whether my boat or my labor.”

“Thank you.”

“… Uh-huh.” Grantaire rubbed his nose. “Now we go back?”

“We just got here!”

“But are you sure of walking with your wet and squishing shoes?”

“… You’re right. But my apartment is several blocks away.”

“Ahem, we can go to my place. Just around here. Plus, I live on the third floor.”

“But in the afternoon you…”

“If you’re worried – Relax, it won’t disturb at all. No class in winter vacation.” Grantaire stared down to the other side. “It’s quite warm inside. Besides the landlady probably gives you some cookies.”

Enjolras stared at him, growing an understanding look.

Grantaire wiped his face: “Sure afternoon you are perhaps planning to save Paris or something else…”

His hand was grasped.

“I agree. Let’s go.”

The wind and sunlight touched the humid meadow, while Enjolras smiled at him again.

 

 

(“Vive la Seine.”)

Fin.


End file.
